


Sixth Sense

by iamanidhwal



Series: 'Tis The Season [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 31 Days of Fanfiction Challenge, 31 Days of Ficmas, 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge (Good Omens), 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge 2019 (Good Omens), AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Animal Transformation, Apprentice - Freeform, Apprenticeship, Bells, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Familiars, GO Witch AU, Gabriel Not Being An Asshole (Good Omens), Gen, M/M, Masao, Masaomicchi, Minor Sergeant Shadwell/Madame Tracy (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Red Witch, Sleigh Bells, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Snakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21878632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamanidhwal/pseuds/iamanidhwal
Summary: [based on Masaomicchi's GO Witch AU]Gabriel sends his new apprentice out to the apothecary to replenish their supplies before an impending snowstorm. Aziraphale sets out immediately to finish the task.But the storm arrives early, with strong winds and cold weather and low visibility. Soon enough, Aziraphale can't see much around him -- just an endless expanse of white.(Day 6 of "31 Days of Ineffables" Challenge -- Sleigh Bells)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: 'Tis The Season [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560976
Comments: 8
Kudos: 124





	Sixth Sense

**Author's Note:**

> based on the lovely GO Witch AU by Masaomicchi! <3 
> 
> Got this idea because apparently, all throughout history, sleigh bells were used on horses and sleighs to signal the appearance and/or the arrival of someone important and/or of high rank. After reading this fun fact, Red Witch Crowley popped into my head and refused to leave!

* * *

"Aziraphale."

The call came from inside Gabriel's studio, and Aziraphale hurried inside, dropping his hold on the broom that he had been sweeping with for the better part of the morning. He mumbled a small pardon for his intrusion as he swept the curtains aside. Because of his low rank, he had only been invited into his master's studio for lessons twice a week, but the array of colorful bottles and ingredients, the claw-footed pewter cauldron in the middle of the floor brimming with a bright green liquid, and different ornaments and incense holders hanging from the ceiling didn't cease to amaze him every time he entered the room.

"Yes?" he asked.

Gabriel was glowering as he studied the two empty jars in his hands, as though their inability to be full offended him somehow. "We're out."

"Of?"

"Star anise, cloves..." Gabriel looked through the shelves, grumbling as he found more and more empty jars. "Tarragon, rosemary, cardamom, lavender..."

"Will you be cooking something?" Aziraphale asked.

With the way Gabriel whipped his head to glower at him, he reckoned he wasn't supposed to ask that question. 

"I'll need you to go to Madame Tracy's," he said, placing the empty bottles down and patting himself. Gabriel soon found what he was looking for, then threw it over to Aziraphale, who caught it with two hands. The pouch of coins jingled as he weighed it. "Get a jar full of everything, and be quick. There's a snowstorm coming. I need the shelves to be fully stocked before it hits."

Aziraphale nodded, lips pursed. "Yes, sir." 

He excused himself to go get his hat and cloak, abandoning the pouch of coins meanwhile on the bed. Aziraphale thought to himself, as he fastened the heavy, comforting warmth around his shoulders, that it had been months after Gabriel had accepted him as an apprentice. He wasn't really keen, at first -- Aziraphale had always looked up to Crowley, known far and wide in towns as _the_ Red Witch for his unparalleled ability, and had set his sights on being his apprentice. But at some point, he had to take a long, hard look in the mirror and assess his skills as what they are: mediocre at the very best. 

Gabriel was an older and much more experienced witch than Crowley, but he was basically on the same level rank-wise. Nor was he as popular as the Red Witch; being a Royal Consultant to the king had its respective pros and cons. He stuck to the confines of the kingdom if he wasn't needed anywhere else, overseeing the bureaucracy of witches under the King. Crowley was more of a rogue, an honorary Witch of the Kingdom himself, and was a welcomed party whenever he'd visit. Aziraphale would always look forward to him coming back from his many worldly travels and listen to tales of his colorful expeditions. Starry-eyed, he'd always imagine toiling under his tutelage. 

But with such meager skills, he couldn't face him, let alone ask to be his apprentice. He had turned to other witches of a lower rank, but they had all refused after testing Aziraphale's aptitude. Having Gabriel as a distant family relative was like rubbing salt into an open wound, and all whispers of comparison made Aziraphale grimace. Perhaps it was pity that eventually drove Gabriel to accept him as an apprentice; after all, he had acquiesced after a particularly humiliating interaction between Aziraphale and the Red Witch, wherein the latter had actually stuck his tongue out at him (for what reason, Aziraphale had no clue).

That had been four months ago. Aziraphale made sure to help out in the studio and study on his off-times, kept at mixing potions until he had potion burns on his face, to try and improve as fast as he could. But the efforts didn't match the results, and it made him sadder as the days went by. 

Gabriel had noticed, and had become kinder, but Aziraphale still toiled. No matter the blood relation, Gabriel was his master, and Aziraphale was his apprentice. And right now, as an apprentice, he was just above failing miserably, head stuck out of the water. If he didn't gain momentum soon, or stop paddling just to stay afloat, he'd find himself sinking.

There was a small hiss to his ear, and Aziraphale nearly jumped. A small snake with obsidian scaled and a red underbelly had coiled itself around his arm without him noticing. His familiar, Crawly, affectionately nuzzled against his ear, as though to tell him to stop overthinking.

"You shouldn't be up," he whispered to it, patting its head and smiling at Crawly in the mirror's reflection. "It's cold, aren't you cold? I know snakes like to rest during the winter season."

The snake, ever-intelligent, swiveled its head left and right as though shaking its head. Wide yellow eyes looked up at him curiously.

"I'm going out on some errands for Gabriel," Aziraphale explained, picking up his bag and a notepad, listing all the spices that had to be replenished. "Just a quick stop to Madam Tracy's, and I'll be back."

The small snake coiled around his upper arm, squeezing quite gently and nuzzling once more. Aziraphale had never had a familiar before, and Crawly had basically just turned up in his house at one point, but he had grown adept at reading his emotions. 

"Don't want me to go?" He asked, smiling weakly. "I have to, Gabriel will kill me. Well, not really, but I still have to go. There's a snowstorm coming, I better be quick. The earlier I leave, the sooner I can come home."

There was a moment's pause, after which Crawly had slithered down from his arm and flopped onto a pile on the counter. His tongue stuck out balefully, and Aziraphale promised him some snacks when he came back before he hurried off.

A gust of cold air nearly blew him back, and Aziraphale turned his head to the side to avoid the cold bite on his cheeks. He saw Crawly staring at him through the frosted window, and he waved a little to him before trudging on, determined to finish the task before the cold started seeping into his bones. 

* * *

"That'll be seventeen coins, dear."

Aziraphale stuck his tongue out as he counted the correct number of coins from the pouch, piling them up in small columns on the wooden counter. "Thank you, Madame Tracy."

"Nonsense, love, it's my pleasure doing business with you." Madame Tracy, with her lively aura and flaming red hair and colorful silk scarves, waved his thanks off and put the coins in the old till. She was the kind and energetic owner of the apothecary favored by all witches in the kingdom, but she knew every name and every face that came through the door and talked to them as a friend. Aziraphale was no exception. "How goes the tutelage?"

"Miserable," he replied with a grumble as he placed the jars into his bag.

Madame Tracy just scoffed, leaning over the counter with her chin on her hand. She had plenty of rings of all sorts of colors and shapes on each finger. "I'll give that boy Gabriel an earful."

"Oh, no, no, Gabriel has been kind," Aziraphale corrected himself. "Strict, yes, but discipline is needed, correct? I only meant that I'm miserable with my own efforts."

"Honey, you've been working so hard..."

"I know..." he said, trailing off a little. "But it's not producing any results."

Madame Tracy made a little humming noise. "Maybe you can't see it because you've set the bars for yourself too high?" 

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if your goal is to produce a high-level spell after just four months of practice under Gabriel, then, of course, you'd probably have no results as of yet. But as it stands, I heard you've perfected making a sleeping draught for his patients?"

"Ah." Aziraphale nodded, the smell of lavender and chamomile suddenly in his mind as he remembered the potent sleeping draught he had been taught to make. "Yes, but that one is very, very simple."

"Yet months ago you couldn't make it, and now you can." Madame Tracy wagged a finger at him. "Chin up, dear. I can see your aura glow. You've improved. The only thing you need is more practice and more time, and you have both right now. Don't compare yourself to other witches; you only need to compare yourself to one -- yourself, from the past."

He smiled weakly, nodding in understanding. "Thank you, Madame Tracy. I'll make sure to keep it in mind. You always know the right thing to say."

"I've seen many witches go through the same thoughts; even the Red Witch had his off days, you know." She winked conspiratorially, which sent Aziraphale into giggles. "Now hurry off, I'll be locking up soon. I see snow starting to fall already."

Aziraphale nodded and checked outdoors; indeed, the snow had started falling in heavy clumps, and the rattling of the wooden slats of the shop from the gale did nothing to appease the turning of his stomach. He pulled the bag over his shoulder. "I'll be going, then. Oh! One question."

"Yes?"

"Have you seen the Red Witch lately?" He asked, voice perking up. Madame Tracy knew his treatment of the Red Witch like an idol and was one of the few people who didn't ridicule him for it. "Has he been out on a trip?"

She hummed and fixed the shawl wrapped around her shoulders. "No, dear, he's been resting. The last trip physically taxed him."

"Oh." He blinked. "Is he sick? I can make a healing draught for him, I'm getting good at those."

"No, dear, he's fine." She smiled at him. "You're very kind. He'll be alright in no time." 

"Sometimes I feel it's unfair you know of his situation more than anyone else in the kingdom," he teased. 

She just wagged his finger at him again. "I hope you haven't been listening to rumors while studying, Aziraphale. My dear Shadwell will have to have a word with you and Gabriel if that's the case."

He yelped a little, but seeing her joking like this made him relax. After one last goodbye, he excused himself and went out.

The apothecary was located in the heart of the city, right in the Downtown area, but the streets were already deserted by the time Aziraphale had set foot on the cobblestone. The street lamps weren't extinguished, but with the wind steadily picking up the pace, they were being blown out one by one. 

Aziraphale had three layers of clothing but he could still feel the cold inside him, making him shiver and his teeth chatter and his nose numb. Try as he might to squint or cover his face with his hat and his flimsy scarf, he couldn't see that far ahead of him for all of five paces. 

Thinking that it was better to turn back and take shelter from the storm, he turned around. But he found his heart dropping in his stomach when he was faced with the same expanse of white in front of him. Aziraphale had gotten completely lost, had no visible landmarks to base his location off of, was freezing his bones off and had nowhere to turn to.

He opened his mouth to shout for help, but his voice died out fairly quickly with the harshness of the cold freezing his throat. His hands felt numb and he rubbed them together for warmth but to no avail. The chattering of his teeth had not stopped, and he found himself curling up in a ball in the middle of nowhere, clutching the spices that he had bought Gabriel. 

As his eyes closed, he said a silent prayer in his head, willing the storm to bowl over quickly. At some point, Aziraphale heard the jingle of sleigh bells, but even in his delirium, he thought it was only a product of his imagination, and he lost consciousness quickly after.

* * *

Gabriel was proper worried. 

He had sent Aziraphale to get supplies, but the news and his own predictions have grossly underestimated the extent of the damage and harshness the sudden snowstorm had brought. It even came hours earlier than expected, and by the time he noticed, it had been a full hour since Aziraphale had left.

He cursed under his breath. How could he have been so stupid, so engrossed in a spellbook to notice that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong?

Gabriel hurriedly put on his coat then went out the back of his studio, intent on riding to look for Aziraphale or to at least get him to the nearest shelter...

Only to find his horse had gone missing.

He cursed once again. There were no marks of the reigns straining against the wood, and no sign of a specially-designed leather seat. His horse had not left on its own; someone had taken him.

"By the love of all that is --"

"Gabriel."

He turned around to see the Red Witch, Crowley, visibly panting and in a state of distress. Gabriel's horse stood beside him, and Aziraphale was curled up in a ball in Crowley's arms, clutching the bag of spices close to his chest.

Gabriel put two and two together quickly. "Get him inside."

Crowley nodded; he had a sick pallor to him as of late, and Gabriel had commented on it once or twice but the Red Witch had always just waved it off as fatigue from adventures. But now, carrying Aziraphale like he weighed nothing, and the look of panic in his amber eyes betraying his emotions, Gabriel had to mentally take a step back at the intensity of his compassion towards his apprentice. "Can I use your studio? I need to make a warming draught. I don't know how long he's been out in the cold."

"Of course, Red Witch." Gabriel shrugged. "There's honey liquor in the pantry, mix it in so it warms him up faster. I'll follow suit." 

Crowley hurried inside, mumbling under his breath like he often did when he got lost in his thoughts. Gabriel took the reins of the horse and secured him back to the post, making sure there was water in the trough. The tell-tale jingle of the sleigh bells on either side of the horse's saddle was comforting to hear, and he patted the horse's nose for a job well done.

When he entered the house again, Crowley had tied his long, red hair up in a ponytail, and his sleeves had been neatly tucked up to prevent them from falling into the red liquid bubbling in the pewter cauldron. He didn't even look up when Gabriel had come over to help.

"Goblet's on your right," he called out, and Crowley ladled the goblet full, then went over to Aziraphale's room. Gabriel didn't question how he knew where Aziraphale's quarters were, or how he knew immediately where to put him down. He just watched as he made the unconscious apprentice sip the liquid down. 

In a manner of minutes, the shivering had died down and Aziraphale's darkened lips had become flush with life once more. A sigh of relief escaped from both witches, and Crowley excused himself to clean up the studio. Gabriel took one of the fleece blankets from the cupboards and covered Aziraphale with it, making sure to mumble an apology as the man curled in on himself for more warmth.

When he came out, however, Crowley leveled him with a glare. "I cannot believe you would send him out in a _snowstorm_ for _lavender and cardamom,"_ he snapped as he sat down.

"Reports of the storm coming stated it won't come 'til evening," Gabriel replied coolly as he took a seat across from him. Prim and proper with a straight back compared to the Red Witch's lax energy and sprawled out legs. It was a common juxtaposition they'd often be commented on when they sat on the round table in consultation with the King with all the other witches and counselors. "If I had known, I wouldn't have sent him out."

Crowley snorted. "I didn't know you could be so kind."

"He's not just my apprentice, but also my cousin." Gabriel rolled his eyes. "His mother and my mother are cousins as well. I'm responsible for him."

"Hm." Crowley yawned and nodded. "Sure."

"How did you even get here? How'd you know to look for Aziraphale?" Gabriel questioned him now, thoughts spilling from his mind and out his mouth freely. "And you even stole my horse!"

"' _Borrowed'._ I _borrowed_ your horse," Crowley corrected.

Gabriel snorted. "Semantics."

" _Gesundheit_."

" _Crowley._ "

"I was in the area," he drawled dismissively, hand waving in the air. "Didn't have my horse, got yours, saw your apprentice in the cold, there we go."

Gabriel bristled, crossing his legs impatiently. "The timeline doesn't make sense."

"You don't make sense," Crowley grumbled under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Crowley stood up and stretched. "Don't twist your back thinking about it. I'll be taking my leave, now."

Gabriel waved his excuse off. "Nonsense. You can stay here. The snow storm's going to wane off after a few hours. And you've been sick."

"How many times do I have to keep telling you, I'm not --"

"It was the expedition before the last one, right?" Gabriel asked. Crowley had fallen silent, arms crossed defensively over his chest. "What happened? And don't lie to my face, this time."

"...I was cursed," he said quietly. Gabriel pursed his lips but said nothing, letting him continue. "It's not life-threatening. It's just cumbersome. I'm still working out the cure."

"I can be of service, Red Witch. Really."

"Thank you, Gabriel. But uh... the nature of this curse is a bit sensitive and personal." Crowley looked away. "I appreciate the offer, though. Perhaps you can help me in indirect ways. I'll talk to you when I need help."

"It's an offer with no time limit." The other man shrugged and stood up. "Just rest up. Take my room. I have a spare blanket, I can sleep out here. I'll have to keep an eye on Aziraphale, anyway."

"...Thanks." Crowley smiled weakly and patted his shoulder in thanks before retreating to Gabriel's bedroom with a yawn. 

The other witch busied himself over preparing foodstuffs and warm drinks for Aziraphale to ingest when he awoke, before retiring himself on the couch with layers of blankets over him, the howling of the wind and the warmth embracing him pulling him into a deep sleep.

* * *

Aziraphale woke in the morning when he felt the warmth of the sun on his face and a familiar weight on his chest.

He sat up slowly, making sure not to jostle Crawly awake, but failed. The snake suddenly came alive and all but hissed in his face, affectionately, worriedly. 

"Hang on, hang on," he tried to calm him, but to no avail. Crawly had made it his lifelong mission to show Aziraphale just exactly how badly the snake was worried, coiling around his fingers and hissing. "Alright, fine, scold me all you want..."

"He was quite worried," Gabriel said, and Aziraphale looked up to see him in the doorway holding up a tray of food. "He disappeared through the night and came back early morning. How are you feeling?"

"L-Like... Like I just came from an ice bath," he replied. "Gabriel, what... how...?"

"I must apologize first for sending you out in a snowstorm." Gabriel set the tray of food down, then offered a goblet filled with a warm, bubbling red liquid. Crawly hissed and pointed his tail in its direction, making him drink. "It was a lapse in my judgment. Second, the Red Witch came to your aid. He took my horse and rode out in the storm to get you."

"T-The Red Witch?" Aziraphale nearly dropped the goblet of the warming draught on his lap. "He's here?!"

" _Was_." He nodded, shaking his head. "He left before I awoke. Flash bastard, I told him to rest..."

"Uhm..." Gabriel looked back to see Aziraphale fiddling nervously with his fingers. "Was he alright? I-I heard he was sick, and..."

"It's none of your concern," he replied. When Aziraphale winced, Gabriel softened his tone. "I didn't mean it like that. There's no cause for you to worry. The Red Witch just needs his rest."

Aziraphale nodded, guilt still welling up in his chest. "I'm sorry for worrying you, and for troubling the Red Witch."

"It's not a problem at all, Aziraphale. Although I suggest you make something as thanks for Crowley." He shrugged. "Just as a nice gesture."

Aziraphale grinned. "Yes, that would be nice."

"Not today, though. You need to rest. Eat, drink, have the day off. Tomorrow I'll start teaching you to research on curses and their cures."

"I..." 

"Hm?"

"Thank you," Aziraphale mumbled. "Thank you for not giving up on me. I know curses are on a higher level. But if this is pity..."

"This isn't." Gabriel shook his head. "I've seen you go over theories and research. You're naturally good at it. The execution is the part you lack skill in, but skill can be honed over time with practice. That's why I'll need your help. Bring your A-game tomorrow, we'll need it."

Once Gabriel left, Aziraphale nearly wriggled in excitement under the covers. "Crawly!" He squealed, and the snake wrapped around his hands, joining in his excitement. "Crawly, the Red Witch saved me! And Gabriel is being nice! I'm moving up to another level! I feel like Christmas has come early!"

And as his words of happiness bubbled up from inside, the small snake affectionately snuggled against his chest, as though it was happy to hear Aziraphale's heart beating loud and healthy. 


End file.
